


Beyond one's limit

by Somecallmemichelle



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Age Difference, First Crush, Fluff, Gen, Heavy pining, M/M, Martial Arts, Pining, Teacher-Student Relationship, alternate universe - no videl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 04:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21404176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somecallmemichelle/pseuds/Somecallmemichelle
Summary: Piccolo had always felt as if emotions were not really his thing. Just as he hid away his true power under weighted clothings he hid his feelings (if he ever had them) under a mask of apparent coldness.It's not as if he doesn't care for Gohan, it's not as if he isn't proud of the man Gohan has become, however expressing it is not something on his mind.Gohan has always been good at breaking through his shell, however...
Relationships: Piccolo/Son Gohan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69
Collections: Male Slash Flash Exchange 2019





	Beyond one's limit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neosaiyanangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neosaiyanangel/gifts).

Piccolo did not know when it had happened but at some point he had grown to really care for Goku’s son, Gohan.

  
Maybe it had happened as he had trained him, seeing him grow from weak and fragile kid, so often crying, to the point he wondered whether or not Goku had been the same as a child, into a strong, clever and above all fair young man.   
  
Though Piccolo was aware that Chi Chi’s study sessions, the ones that so often cut into their training probably had more to do with the way he had he had turned, a student with constant high marks and a bright career ahead of him Piccolo liked to think that he had at least had a hand in shaping Gohan. If he had indeed had a hand on Gohan’s education, raising far more than his physical fitness It was something to be proud off. Piccolo could hardly think of a man - for he was no longer the boy with a tail he had held - who embodied so many qualities he found admirable.   
  
Sure Goku, his father was a stronger fighter, but Piccolo couldn’t help but think he was kind of moronic. Vegeta had the intelligence to be dangerous, as he had been dangerous but his arrogance betrayed him, and he was so focused on Kakarott, or well, Goku that sometimes, despite his relationship with Bulma Piccolo wondered if there was something more to it than rivalry.

With Goten and Trunks being but mere children Piccolo had to put the crown of best sayan squarely on Gohan’s head. Not due to raw power level or stamina, Piccolo who had trained him and still did on occasion was aware of his limitations, but because he was simply…

Well he was simply Gohan. Clever, dedicated and polite. He was the kind of fighter that did not engage in thrash talk even while ready to throw everything he was doing away to help those in need. He was the one that Piccolo could always think to think things through rather than rush in without a plan - whether for fun or due to overestimating his abilities.

Piccolo had grabbed Gohan and trained him out of a sense of honor, a sense of need, to repay back Goku for his sacrifice but he had to admit, at some point, seeing him toughen up, seeing him focus on the challenges, often so demanding Piccolo had handed him and seeing him grow into someone capable -

Well, Piccolo was not the kind of namekian to be overly warm, or kind or even display much in the way of affection, or feelings in general. He held them in check just like he held his real power, though the methods to do so differed. No, it was not through weighted clothes he made them apparent.   
  
Still Piccolo made sure to be always at least somewhat present when it came to Gohan, he was like a hawk, hovering in the background. Just like great beings could observe anything Piccolo made sure to always observe Gohan and his achievements.   
  
Tickly tucked sweater, well ironed trousers Gohan was not at all like most of the other fighters Piccolo knew. The clothes, stuffy and no doubt stiff made it so fighting was harder, not as fluid or fast but then Piccolo knew that Gohan had long since changed his main goal in life from becoming the strongest, a super warrior into just being a stable, well educated adult.   
  
It was the kind of goal that Chi Chi would approve of, Chi Chi who had a huge hand in making it so, but then that was the thing about adulthood wasn’t it? Maturity tended to change a person, or indeed namekian or saiyan. Piccolo knew that even now Goku held himself the same, boisterous and loud and ready to take any challenge but he could not place the values on most everyone else. He knew, hadn’t he had the intent to kill Goku? To avenge his father?   
  
No, things had changed, and Piccolo could not regret the kind of path life had taken him, it had allowed him to be there for Gohan more than all. For whatever reason he thought that that suited him pretty else. As his views and horizons had expanded, as he had come to know Namek, and so much of the universe he still hadn’t found anything that was as amazing and set his emotions racing like Gohan did.   
  
There was something to be said about it. With time came distance, and with distance came longing and yet Piccolo could not act on it. When he had the same job Vegeta did, train, become stronger and yet none of the comforts distracting himself was easy. A blast, a punch, a kick…   
  
It was not so much training as it was pushing those thoughts and feelings aside. Gohan was the kind of man who always pushed forward, went above and beyond his limits. Gohan was the one who took things even further, whenever need came to be.   
  
Piccolo was just there, not for him, not for anyone or even for Earth. Piccolo was a background figure in a drama he found ever more intensively focused on Goku. That he was there, a dash of green when drama came around was negligible.   
  
It was not putting himself down, it was the truth. Piccolo was nothing if not practical, he knew that though he was the star and main focus of his life that did not held true to anyone else. He was not as Satan, the figure he had caught on occasion in TV.   
  
No, he was content in his obscurity. The kind of fighter who cared only to hold him and others to their best.   
  
He guessed he had learned from Gohan, just as Gohan had learned from him. It would be an exaggeration to say he had learned to care, that he had learned to hold himself to such a standard but then he did know that Gohan stuck close to his chest. Humans had the concept of a heart, this beating organ that supposedly held all of their feelings.   
  
Were Piccolo human he would consider the idea that Gohan had taken his heart. Namekians did not much have use for those biological needs, or even an understanding of them but if it was anything like his care for Gohan he could see how it could be intoxicating.   
  
  
____

  
It should have been a simple matter. So often fighting felt like repeating the same series of kicks and punches too fast to be perceptible, dodging automatically and pushing back that it should’ve worked to a sort of rhythm or dance. It should’ve been a simple matter and, as neither him nor Gohan were fighting to kill or maim but purely to practice it should’ve been rather sparse, in terms of contact.   
  
And yet there it was. With a hit that had come faster and stronger than he had planned for Gohan was upon him. In the air, seeing it coming at him and knowing that it was too late to dodge, even through instant transmission he had done the first thing that had come to mind.   
  
He had grabbed Gohan. With his fist closing in fast on his face he had only time to intercept his arm and fling him upwards. It was a move he would’ve repeated a thousand times with success but something about the speed at which it happened made it go wrong.   
  
It shouldn’t have, Gohan, who also had the ability to fly should’ve just gone up only to launch an immediate response in the form of a flying kick or a ki blast, it should’ve been a matter of gaining distance and not of winning.   
  
So how had Gohan ended up tangled with him? How had his body hit him with such an impact that it was audible on the ground? How had his face found his way to Piccolo’s chest, and why did the contact feel so good?   
  
Piccolo knew it wasn’t planned, at least not in the same sense that their sparring session had been. Getting an opening in Gohan’s schedule had taken time, insistence and the reminder, constant as it was, that things could go South at a moment’s notice. It had taken an urge to keep in shape for Gohan to put on his old blue martial arts garbs and accept.   
  
This was much more spontaneous, whether he had pushed him not upwards but towards him or whether it had been a whim of fate did not matter now. Heavily toned, hair blonde in a super form there was only one truth, as Piccolo came to understand it. Contact, and closeness with Gohan felt nice.   
  
It wasn’t a sexual or otherwise biological need, at least he didn’t think so. Namekians did not have to worry about such things. No it was more of a sense of closeness, a sense that everything would be alright and that it was how things were supposed to be.   
  
Gohan had to have enjoyed it too. Powered up all it would take would be a push and they’d untangle themselves. They end up hundreds of feet of distance from one another and yet Gohan seemed to find solace in having his nose to Piccolo’s chest.

  
It was embarrassing and it was awkward, Piccolo, steadfast Piccolo who had never hesitated in his life, or at least not often was unsure. Doubt creeping in it was not a welcome new sensation for him. How could he feel like so?    
  
What he was supposed to do, downplay it, claim it an accident, even if he was not sure it had been an accident, keep sparring was clear in his mind and yet the question stood, nagging, constant, worrisome. He had not much hesitated to take Gohan in his guard as he had not much hesitated to be cruel in order to prepare him.   
  
But he hesitated now. Gohan was no longer a child but rather a man, it was hard not to notice it. A dorky, shy, quiet man with a love for mathematics and fighting alike but still, a man. Gohan and his responsible self were like two sides to a coin and Piccolo couldn’t help but love both sides of it, whatever the side it was still Gohan, right?   
  
Seconds seemed to pass as both him and Gohan stood in silence, at last there was movement, on the part of Gohan. It was easy to think he had been dazed, that he had been left confused by the impact and yet Piccolo knew better, he himself had put him through much worse.   
  
Their eyes met and though Piccolo had never seen the point of kissing, and had actually seen it as a waste of time, exchanging saliva he had to admit, at that moment in time he was tempted, and the truth was, at that point he wouldn’t be adverse to it.   
  
Gohan pressed harder against him, suspended in the air, his arms going around him, and maybe it was unbecoming, maybe the hug was odd, or weird, or uncomfortable as Piccolo loathed to be touched. But Gohan had always broken through his barriers and discomforts, from him practically raising him, when Piccolo’s father had not been very good, to this moment so Piccolo, as un-Piccolo like as it were couldn’t help but think   
  
Maybe it’d be alright.


End file.
